Wolverine and Phoenix
by dishcalledhaggis
Summary: Wolverine and Phoenix have known nothing but torture and duty. Together, they find their humanity.
1. Alkali Lake

Phoenix stood in a copse of trees, staring back at Alkali Lake. If her mind hadn't been clouded by adrenaline, she may have fallen to the dirt floor in shock of what she just encountered. With the breath huffing into steam clouds around her head, she turned and disappeared into the night...

He unleashed his claws and charged toward her with an enraged shout, swiping the air as she propelled herself backward. That seemed to make him angrier, and he watched her like a predator does his prey. This was someone feral, who lived like an animal, and therefore deadly. Clearly Stryker hadn't let Jean's escape hinder his "progress" in experimentation. He blocked her escape with his broad shoulders and wide stance, looking out from under his brows as he streamed sweat. She could take him, she just had to be smart about it, and from the looks of him it better be genius level.

Pulling herself up, she lowered her chin and gave him a level stare in a defiant gesture, walking calmly toward him. This seemed to catch him off guard, and he glanced around for some sort of trap he missed. Lifting her hand, she shoved him with all the force she could muster into the wall, his body crumpling like a puppet with cut strings. She ran from the room, making her way steadily to the exit. She had the  
information, now all she needed was to get the hell out and back to the car.

Too busy to bother gathering all of the information on the Mutant she slammed against solid concrete was her first mistake. The second, was not closing the damned door behind her. She nearly shrieked when he spun her around, looking in perfect health as he forced her back against the wall, ripping the mask from her head.

Something like curiosity changed his features, but he still held her against the wall by the throat.  
"What are you," he struggled to ask.  
"Same as you," she gasped, looking deep into his eyes.

He leaned in and sniffed, liking the smell of her. Interested by the turn of events, he took his hand from her slender throat and trailed his nose along her neck, intent on marking her his territory. She quieted a whimper by pressing her lips hard together, afraid that his intention to kill had become something equally violent, should she show any submission to his inspection of her. She kneed him in the groin, making him double over to buy her time. Only a dozen steps into her escape, he had recovered and caught up, that sharp sound of his claws extending caused a sensation that she had never felt before, utter terror. Tears came to her eyes as the cold air hit them, all the while she focused on moving fast and in the straightest line she could manage. If she tried to lose him by weaving through the trees, she'd surely die. In this place, he had all the adavantage, and she was the inept intruder, no matter the topographical maps she had memorized. Charles hadn't counted on a Mutant like that, or else he would have told her ahead of time.

Wouldn't he?

Sensing him break from the chase, she kept on, constructing a shield around her as she loped along in the dark. He stepped out from behind a tree, the scant moonlight making him seem like a monster from her nightmares, and she was unsure if it was by luck or inbred skill, she slipped on a pile of dead foliage and slid right between his widely-stanced legs. Turning in confusion, they stared at each other a long moment. The redhead stood slowly, the wildman's nostrils open and smelling her. She backed away, feeling for the trees behind her. Twenty feet apart now, she knew this was it, and she ran. Chancing a look over her shoulder, he remained where he was, a dark shadow among the trees.


	2. Outside

"James, he's a Mutant."

"We need to get him inside."

"How? He's solid as a rock...a rock filled with lead."

"We'll find a way. Just..."

He woke up, on his feet in the span of an eyeblink.

"Oh boy..."

"Careful Heather."

"I know how you act around animals, but...how do we act around a feral Mutant?"

"Search me," James muttered.

"Are you all right," she asked.

He looked to her, understanding the words. Since that female had escaped him, he had been treated badly, losing the speech he was beginning to mimic. Somewhere in his brain, he knew the responses, he knew how to speak, but it frustrated him that he couldn't figure out how.

"We have a cabin, right over there. Would you like some shelter there?"

"I don't think he's simple, Heather," James would have smiled if the Mutant didn't unleash three wicked claws on each hand.

"He knows what we're saying, hon. But I don't think he can respond."

"Keep it simple, stupid."

"That's right."

He relaxed out of his fighting stance, looking in the direction the woman gestured in. With a sniff, he immediately stalked in the direction of the cabin.

"Guess that's a yes," James sighed.

"What do we do with him," Heather asked.

"I have no idea, treat him like a puppy?"

"A puppy," she snorted.

"I don't know, you invited him!"

They set off after their houseguest, who skirted the area like a dog searching for different territorial scents.

"Will he even go in the house?"

"We'll see."

Heather opened the door, making eye contact with the man. He looked like a stray who didn't like being caged.

"I'll make you some food," she called.

James watched him as the continued around the perimeter of their land, prowling the area.

"Do you think we should get some help with this," he asked.

"Whoever did this to him, I think more people would only make it worse."

"You think someone did this to him?"

"It's obvious," she warmed up a large plate of leftovers.

As soon as she stepped onto the porch, the man turned. He sniffed the air and stalked toward them, easily maipulating the fork as he took the plate from her hand. Even if he couldn't make words, he was happy to know this tool.

"You cut up his food in little pieces," James grinned.

"Well, I thought he might be starving. Don't want him to wolf it down."

"Shall we call him Wolf, cause he's doing it anyway."

"He has a tag on that necklace, I can't see what it says," she reached out without thinking.

The man jumped back, watching her with wary eyes.

"The necklace," she pointed to her neck. "Might I see it?"

He glanced down, looking back to her with confusion.

"Your name might be on it," she continued.

Allowing her to grab the tag, she looked to his name.

"Wolverine? What kind of name is that?"

"What shall we call him then?"

"He might have a name."

The man watched them talk, searching his brain for the skills to speak.

"I'm Heather," she placed her hand on her chest. "This is James," she pointed to her husband.

He turned back to his meal, and Heather knew he understood.

_Logan, my name is Logan._

--

Heather woke up the next morning, smiling as James kissed her shoulder.

"Good morning," James murmured.

"Hey you-oh my God!"

"What, what!"

"He was lookin' in the window," she gasped.

"You scared him," James jumped out of bed, opening the front door. "Hey, you want to come inside?"

He hesitated, glancing inside as Heather came out of their room in her robe.

"Come in, I'll put on some coffee."

"What if he doesn't like coffee," Heather asked.

"Don't know that, he isn't a baby. If the man wants coffee, he should have it, right."

The feral Mutant stepped inside, sniffing constantly. He smelled the couple all over the place, no trace of the men who made him stupid like this. They watched as he inspected the cabin, looking in doors and moving to the next.

"That's your room, if you want it," James told him.


	3. Kept

Jean ignored the burn in her thighs, sweat slip-sliding down her spine as she pushed further on the bike. Xavier had pulled her from Stryker's very clutches at the tender age of fourteen, on the brink of insanity as they tortured and tested her, she intended to make the Professor never regret changing his whole life to care for a young girl. She let trivial things like boyfriends and having fun stay as a passing thought, preferring to train hard, always striving to be better, stronger, faster.  
She didn't even blink when she sensed the Professor arrive.

"Jean?"

"Yes," she panted, annoyed with the use of her given name. All but the Professor called her by Phoenix, and she repeatedly asked him to leave 'Jean' behind.

"I'd like to talk about your last mission."

"Sure," she reached for her water bottle.

"While researching the files you copied, I came upon a project titled 'Weapon X'."

"It doesn't have anything to do with me, does it?"

"No, no. Nothing about you. It seems...they took a Mutant with regenerative powers and bonded adamantium to his bones."

She was not quick enough to mask her expression, since the initial debriefing in the War Room, she had been fighting with the decision to stay quiet about the Mutant she escaped.

"You met this man," he arched an eyebrow.

"He wasn't a man, not in the traditional sense."

"What was he?"

"An animal. It was as if all of his human behaviors were shut off, leaving only pure instinct," she explained.

"I see. I've tried to find him using Cerebro."

"Where is he," she was surprised to hear concern color her words.

"Living life quietly in the Candian Rockies with two Mutants."

"What should we do?"

"I was going to ask you," he smiled.

"Leave him alone."

"Very well. Were you injured during your...meeting," Charles looked for any visible injuries.

"Nothing I can't handle," she smiled.

"Have you become acquainted with your other teammates?"

"Yes, though I don't often see them," she took another sip of water.

"Perhaps if you slowed down a bit, set aside some time?"

"I will..."

"I know it has been you and I alone in this mansion, and you dedicated yourself to the cause from the very start, but Jean..." Charles looked to her with concern in his eyes.

"Be young," she replied with his usual request.

He smiled.

"I will try, Charles."

"Nothing would make me happier."


	4. Met

She was in the city, combing the dark streets when a familar alien presence alterted her to danger, he had been following her

Logan remained with James and Heather a few more days, simply saying a hoarse 'thank you' before disappearing into the trees. He wandered Canada for weeks, scrounging food and shelter when and where he felt safest for the moment, but like his need to keep moving, he always returned to Alkali Lake. It was there he scented that woman again, having recently disturbed the ground and trees he stood in by only a day. Only he could have caught a few strands of her hair left behind on a low-hanging branch. Pupils dilated as he looked up into the full moon, he was instantly obsessed with tracking her down.

He found her in the city a week later, walking the dark streets as if she had no fear of being attacked. The scent of her was heavy here, old haunts she couldn't break habit of visiting. She paused on the corner, her back going stiff, sensing him standing there watching her. He was intrigued that she didn't run, choosing her measured pace despite the racing rabbit-like pace of her heart. He followed, confused by the sudden silence of her boots on pavement.

Gone, just like that.

He sniffed the air, turning all the time to try and catch her scent. With the trail abruptly ended, he sniffed upward, catching the sweetness in the air behind and above him.

Playing tricks.

Feigning frustration, he stalked off, letting himself sink into that animalistic side he so carefully tried to control. She had a range, but he could block her.

She lowered herself to the ground with her power, touching the ground with the barest whisper of boots on pavement, having hung on the end of a fire escape ladder. He had his hand wrapped around her arm before she could take one step in the opposite direction, but quick thinking on her part had that hand twisted up behind his back, with him lying on the ground. Just because he was an accelerated healer didn't mean he couldn't still feel pain.  
"What do you want," she demanded, pressing her knee into his back.  
"I don't know," he spoke clearly.  
"Leave me alone."  
"How do I know you, why do I know you," he panted, his eyes looking frantic.  
"You don't," she snapped.  
"Do you know me?"  
Something in his voice was different, and she let him go. "Get up."  
He raised himself up slowly, turning to face her with his hands held out from his body.  
"Do you know me," he asked again.  
"A few months ago, you tried to kill me," she replied, the neon sign behind her head lit her up like an angel with a partially shadowed face.  
"What happened?"  
"I got away," she smirked.  
"That base, they did something to me. The metal."  
Damn it, she hated having a soft spot for people like him. She let out an irritated hiss of breath, looking around the dark streets.  
"Do you drink coffee?"  
"Yeah," he knew he stared, just couldn't help it.  
"Come on, then."  
Phoenix led him to a restaurant, sitting in a booth near the back with a clear emergency exit. She ordered coffee for them and sat back to wait, keeping her face partially shielded by long wavy hair.  
"I didn't see much, your file was buried deep in the system. Your picture was under the heading 'Weapon X'."  
"Can't you get it for me?"  
"That's stealing."  
"All I want to know is who I am."  
"Okay, okay...I'll see what I can do," she leaned back in her chair.  
"You better not try disappearing, I know how you smell."  
"You think you can find me a second time?"  
He smirked.


	5. Aiding and Abetting

Phoenix walked out onto the patio, staring down at her next assignment. She bit her lip, knowing why she was chosen for this particular mission, but she didn't like it. Something vague brushed up against her mind, she was used to filtering out usual thoughts and sounds, but this had her mind perked up and on the scent, as it were.  
She found the interest in the form of Weapon X, off in a shaded corner against the wall, looking like something out of a James Dean movie.  
"What are you doing here?"  
"It's been a month, you haven't brought me anything."  
She checked around them, pushing him under a blanket of ivy vines hanging from the edge of the brick. "I've been kinda busy."  
"You aren't terribly busy now," he pointed out.  
"I can't just waltz right in and get it for you."  
"Why not," he was getting irritated, with the woman and at Wolverine nagging at him inside his head, trying to goad Logan into turning on the charm.

"I have missions that keep me away; I just got back four hours ago. Why am I explaining myself to you, of all people!"

Wolverine was going to drive him mad until he got to play a little, whining and scratching at the barriers of his consciousness, so he allowed some release of control to his other part.

"C'mon sweetheart, it can't be that difficult."  
"You can't charm me into this, just because you want something," she crossed her arms over her chest.

"I'm willing to reciprocate."

"I do not like how that sounds," she clenched her teeth together.

"Doesn't smell like it," he advanced on her a bit.

"You back off, or I will remove something that can't grow back."  
"Had to try," he smiled, showing plenty of teeth.

Wolverine retreated, growling his discontent with the female; Logan thoroughly enjoyed the fact that she could completely deny the big bad Wolverine.

"Get going, two weeks."  
"I might want to stick around, make sure you keep your word."  
"Let's see if we can't tear her away from her work for five minutes," a voice from inside interrupted her reply to Wolverine.  
"For a Danger Room session, she'll be all in," a second voice replied.  
"Danger Room," Logan leaned close to the window, interested.  
"If Professor X detects you, he'll have you recruited up in no time," she pushed him back into the shade.  
"With a Danger Room, I might like it."  
"No more freedom to roam, and you have to wear blue and yellow spandex," she turned and he was gone.  
With a sigh, she looked down at the papers in her hand.

'Bring in Weapon X, or destroy him on sight.'


	6. Fire

"Professor, you asked me what we should do with him, and you give me this," she tossed the papers onto the desk.

"Upon further study of his personal file, he's much too dangerous to leave alone."

"You said he was living life quietly in the Canadian Rockies!"

"Until Stryker retrieves him, or worse," Professor X looked over his computer at Phoenix with a measure of calm that grated her nerves.

"Magneto," she sighed, arms crossed.

"He'd be a valuable asset to Eric's cause."

"But to 'bring him in, or destroy him on sight'?"

"If your own meeting with him doesn't convince you, read his file," Charles pushed it across the desktop.

"Can I borrow this?"

"Of course, it's for your mission."

"Thank you," she turned and left the room, trying not to smile.

She ran into the thick forest, scanning the area around her for the presence of his mind since it was so dark she couldn't even see her own gloved hand before her eyes. She caught a drift of thought just before he leapt from her left, throwing him into a tree as she fell to the ground with the motion of his intended tackle.  
"Your luck is gonna run out," he struggled onto hands and knees as his wounds mended.  
"It isn't luck at all," she grinned.  
"Well it's bad luck on my part that I keep runnin' into you," Wolverine was still irritated with the female.  
"That's no way to speak to someone doin' you favors."  
He growled, leading her to the small camp he made. Better I just invite her now before she invites herself, he thought. She sat on the ground cross-legged, prodding the fire higher with a stick.  
"That guy keeps you busy."  
"Better to be busy than sit around letting things happen, you know?"  
"They happen whether you go out and try to change it," he gave her a sage look.  
"Someone's very glass-half-empty."  
"What's with the outfit," he eyed the high-necked black suit curiously.  
"Got a problem with it," she asked.  
"It looks a little obvious."  
"And a satin bikini with thigh-high boots wouldn't be?"  
He started to grumble.  
"It could be awkward on more than one occasion, and very cold."  
"I didn't mean-oh hell," he stalked off.  
She chuckled, holding out her hands to the fire to warm them. It hadn't been easy to shake those men once she got within bounds of Stryker's facility, either she was losing her edge or they were getting smarter. She was a menace to Stryker's work, and if her repeat missions to the compound ended in Stryker's elimination, she'd gladly let herself be chased and shot at. He came back with an armful of firewood, tossing it to the ground noisily as she glanced to the large pile next to her.  
"What's your name?"  
"Wolverine."  
"Phoenix," she replied, looking back into the fire.  
"Did you get the info-" his voice silenced as she pulled the zipper of her suit down and pulled a folded sheaf of papers from the right side.  
"You had better burn them once you read them, I don't want them getting back to me," she turned slightly, squinting into the darkness.  
"Did you read this?"  
"Had to, there could be information I need in there. Why do you stay so close to the compund?"  
"They're comin' this way," he replied ever-so-subtly halting the direction of her question.  
"Thanks for the heads up," her words dripped sarcasm. If his abilities were anything like the observation notes in his fist, he could have told her they hadn't followed the false trail for long.  
"I'll head 'em off once they get here, all right?"  
"Thank you, big man," she grinned, running into the inky black of the forest.


	7. Finding the Words

A telepath knew when they were being watched, and Phoenix always ignored said watchers. After being in that isolation tank as an experiment, anything longer than the span of an eyeblink set her nerves on edge. Except when it came to Wolverine. They had both been imprisoned under Alkali Lake, she knew the hardness in his eyes for what it was.

Survival.

She existed in the Mansion as a mercenary, less than a myth, more than a rumor. Whether or not she wanted to know their thoughts on her, she received them.

_So strange. _

_Did you hear about what she did to those men on her last mission? Pieces left…_

_She looks so lonely._

That last thought always came from Ororo, the weather goddess known as Storm. Soft spoken and sure, with skin of creamy cocoa, hair of silver-white, long toned limbs all of her lithe and formidable. Seemed the kind of women that frequented the Mansion, few as they were. In fact, Storm was the only one who stayed at the Mansion, other Mutant women looked for permanent stations.

On first meeting, Phoenix found the other woman to be much too nurturing, always lending an ear to someone, joining in with Cyclops and Nightcrawler whenever she was asked. They were friends, Phoenix didn't know the meaning.

But now, she was curious. It seemed helping Wolverine avoid recruiting or death was just the beginning of her going soft.

Phoenix sensed her in the library, as soon as she stepped into the room. The moment had come, Phoenix could engage Storm in conversation, or continue on her solitary path.

"Is that a good book," she tried awkwardly.

Storm looked up in surprise. "It's not a sword catalog, but it's good."

"Oh," Phoenix answered, heart thumping erratically from the simple exchange of words.

"Have you ever read Mists of Avalon?"

Phoenix looked to the book on Storm's lap.

"I have."

"Women trying to hold the world together, while men tear it apart," her smile was dark and amused.

"That's the truth," Phoenix smirked.

"Then the women get the blame, such is life."

"I won't keep you," Phoenix smiled, thinking of a book to find.

"Do you like coffee?"

"On occasion," she answered.

"Would you like to, sometime…get some coffee…" Storm faltered, not knowing how far to chance this rare opportunity.

…_and talk? No that sounds like a pickup line. I shouldn't push…_

"Yes, I'd like that," Phoenix answered.

"Oh! All right," Storm smiled.

Phoenix nodded, and turned, a smile exactly like Storm's on her own lips.


	8. Resistance

Phoenix entered the Professor's office for debriefing, choosing to stand rather than make herself comfortable in the chairs before his desk.

"How is the situation with Weapon X?"

"I have encountered him, Professor, but haven't extended your offer."

"Every day he escapes you, he draws closer to the Brotherhood," Xavier sighed.

"Do you know that for sure?"

"The simple fact that he is out there guarantees it, Jean."

"Then if I do not," she asked, arching her eyebrow.

"You have your orders."

"I cannot kill him, sir."

"We _cannot_ let him live outside our reach of protection," Xavier countered.

"Our reach is not limited, and he is not limited in his skill," Phoenix reasoned.

"You must bring him in, Jean."

"You asked me what should be done, Professor! I said leave him be!"

"Jean," he gave her a look of warning.

"Then if you find me incompetent, get another to fetch him or put him down," she turned on her heel and left the room.

_Jean._

_My name is __Phoenix,_ she entered the elevator.

_You must see sense in this._

_Sense? What if it were him that you rescued from that place, and not me, _Jean countered.

_I will not give this mission to anyone else, because of that fact._

_He needs to trust me, Professor. He will not unless there is time to see that. I have made the contact needed, now I just need to…nurture that contact._

_You know best, so I will not fight you on this. But if too much time passes-_

_I will do it myself,_ she interrupted.

_Thank you, Jean._


	9. Take Care Of You

He hadn't seen Phoenix in over a month, and was irritated that he kept track. It was early October, about the time to be settling in, and he was contemplating the idea of going back to that mansion to see her again. You know, just to see if she was still there. He must have been feeling sentimental overall, because he found himself back at the cabin James and Heather had given him refuge. There was no where else for him to be at present.  
Wolverine let the axe swing overhead, musing on his private thoughts when he caught blood and male scent on the air, and dropped the axe to follow. Mindless to the branches whipping his face, he ran through the woods, growling under his breath.  
"Creed!"  
Victor dangled Phoenix off the ground by her throat. She was barely conscious, trying to struggle, the evidence of Creed's violence on her dripping down the side of her bruised cheek. He was happy to see Phoenix had done some damage on him in return, most especially the nail gashes across his cheek.  
"Smelled you on her, is she your latest?"  
"Leave her alone."  
"Runt, you can't do anything," Victor dropped her on the ground, approaching Wolverine, who dropped into a defensive stance.  
"The hell I can't," he growled, lashing out his claws at Victor's knee, slicing down to the bone.  
Victor roared in pain, sending Wolverine flying into the trees. He favored his injured knee as he pursued Wolverine to finish the smaller Mutant off, but received a rude awakening as Wolverine burst through the trees, stabbing blindly in a berserker rage. Wolverine was tossed to the ground once more, but as he rolled to his feet, he realized Victor was gone.  
The sting of healing bones and muscle made him bite back a curse, chest heaving with unspent rage. Glancing around the forest, he saw Phoenix lying where Victor had dropped her. Folding her arms over her stomach, he picked her up and ran back to the cabin.  
He shouldered the door open, carrying her to the bedroom James and Heather had occupied. Tossing wood into the stove, he heated the kettle of water and ran his hands over the black leather suit, relieved to see that Victor hadn't had the chance to do much more than rough her up. He hadn't had time to break any bones, or worse.  
"Phoenix, wake up."  
Her eyelids fluttered.  
"I'm cold."  
"I'll build a fire," he stepped away, almost burning himself in the process of trying to watch her and start the fire.  
He stripped the leather suit from her shivering body and put her under the blankets, cleaning the wounds with the hot water and a washcloth. The water stirred her to consciousness, only enough to speak.  
"Cold," her chin quivered.  
Logan pulled off his clothes, crawling into bed beside her. Turning into the warmth of his body, she shuddered from more than cold, quieting a whimper in her throat.  
"I got you," he murmured into her ear, rubbing her bare skin gently to warm her up.  
He was a soldier, knowing that from his fragmented memories and the file she gave him, and since he escaped that compound, he remained a soldier. But as he lay there with a woman just as naked as himself, he was reminded that he was also a man. Though he could refuse Wolverine time and again, this was something different. Phoenix had aided him in beginning the search for himself, and was reminding him of all these painful and pleasurable things that had been taken from him.  
He took a deep breath, only to smell the scent of her hair, and grunted uncomfortably as she clung tighter to him. This was going to be an exercise in control.

* * *

Wolverine stayed inside the cabin to watch over her, which left him the broadest of choices, to read or drink coffee.  
He crossed the room when she stirred on her own, making a noise of discomfort. Reaching out, he brushed some hair back from her face, and nearly got to know those fingernails firsthand.  
"Whoa, whoa whoa! It's me," he insisted.  
Phoenix blinked, really seeing Wolverine, and sank back into the pillows.  
"How long have I been out," she asked hoarsely.  
"Two nights."  
She touched her cheek gingerly, "I need to get back."  
"You need to rest another day or two."  
"They will come looking for me," she sat up, and clutched the blankets to her chest. "You undressed me."  
"Nothing I haven't seen before."  
"Is there a way for me to clean up?"  
"Sponge bath," he shrugged.  
"Better than nothing," she thought out loud.  
"But you'll eat first, and then stay another day or two."  
"Bathroom first, then we'll talk," she replied grimly.  
"Okay," he reached over to the bedpost and handed her his flannel shirt.  
Even though he had seen her, he turned around to save her some embarrassment, and listened to her struggle.

"You alright?"

"My whole arm is bruised," she muttered.

"Need help?"

She struggled for a moment more, before sighing in frustration. Logan turned around, and immediately buttoned up the flannel as she sat there watching him. He raised his eyes to hers, and felt a twist of pleasure in his guts at seeing the unspoken thanks there in the dark green irises. Clearing her throat, he stepped back and held his hand out to steady her as she stood up.

"So, ya think you'll need help with that sponge bath?"

"Wolverine," she elbowed him.

* * *

Phoenix squinted in the autumn light, pulling the flannel closer to her body. Though it wasn't completely by her choice, she stayed another day to try and get her strength back. Wolverine had washed most of the blood from her suit as she rested, it kept out most of the cold.  
"So you just stay and piss on all the trees until he comes back?"  
"That's the idea," he muttered.  
"Come to the mansion."  
"I thought you didn't want me to get recruited."  
"I can stop that from happening. Please, just for the winter," she asked.  
"I'll be fine."  
"Wolverine, don't be a stubborn ass," Phoenix snapped.  
"I can take care of myself," he muttered.  
"Don't bother walking me to town," she set off along the dirt road.


	10. Bruises and Bonds

Phoenix winced at the deep aches in her body; she was sure she had received worse in past missions, but when she first began her life as an agent for Xavier she would pop a stitch and continue onto the next without much worry for herself. She was recuperating at the mansion, but the healing process was slow going.

"Come in," she spoke towards the closed door, where Storm was just beginning to raise her fist to knock.

"I apologize for bothering you, Phoenix."

"It's not a problem," she sat back from the computer, having only the capacity to use one hand, as her other arm was still a muddle of bruises. "What do you have to help me?"

Storm looked at her in surprise, holding the bag to her chest as if she was sure that Phoenix would refuse.

"I'm very rude with my telepathy. I like to cut through the niceties and conversational bullsh-anyway, show me," she encouraged.

Storm laid her bag on the coffee table, pulling out various creams and oils. "Its herbal medicine, I thought it may help your pain and healing."

Phoenix was miserable enough the last two weeks, unable to even train in the gym.

"It can't make me any worse," she slipped off Wolverine's flannel shirt, carefully pulling her injured arm free.

"Are there any more bruises anywhere else," Storm asked.

"Yes," Phoenix pulled the tank top over her head, tossing it aside.

"Is that-a shoe print?"

"Boot, hurt like hell," Phoenix looked down at her side with a sigh.

Storm washed her hands and rubbed a woodsy-scented lotion in her palms, placing her hands on the injured arm. Phoenix bit her lip and endured the firm touch on her aching skin.

"I'm sorry, I know it hurts you."

"I can handle it," she answered. "Besides, it smells nice."

"Breathe it in, the lavender will relax the nervous system. It's crying out because it is overstressed, hopefully this will do something more for you."

"I appreciate it," Phoenix replied, wincing.

She stayed still like a good patient while Storm covered the bruises, glad that the woman's touch made her calm and not jittery.

"The man that took care of you should be thanked; he prevented this other one from killing you," she inspected the boot print closely as she applied more cream.

"Why do you think it was a man that took care of me?"

Storm glanced over at the flannel shirt and gave her a stern expression, Phoenix colored slightly.

"Yeah, well I deserve that," she smiled.

"You are protective of him."

"He's nothing to talk about."

"I see, you want to keep him to yourself," Storm nodded.

"Storm…I'm warning you," Phoenix chuckled.

"Is that a laugh from the fiercest agent in Xavier's Mansion," Storm gave a teasing gasp of surprise.

"This isn't spoken of outside this room."

"Then tell me about him, I will promise it on pain of death never to tell anyone."

Phoenix hesitated, considering what would happen should someone else discover her secret through Storm.

"He is my mission."

"Phoenix," Storm looked at her in genuine shock.

"You can't tell anyone," she demanded, afraid she had judged Storm wrong.

"I didn't think you had it in you to sleep with a subject."

"I'm not sleeping with him!"

"Then what _are _you doing," Storm smiled.

"I'm letting him live his life!"

"Oh, that's no fun at all," Storm pouted.

"I'm doing what I think is…are we having fun," Phoenix asked suddenly.

"Yes, feral girl, we are having fun," Storm teased.

"You're my friend."

"Yes, I am," Storm smiled again, as visibly pleased as Phoenix felt inside.

"And you won't tell Xavier about this?"

"One, he would never believe me. Two, unless it was hurting you, I would never tell anyone."

"I think I'm feeling better already," Phoenix smiled.

"Enough to go get coffee," Storm asked.

"Yes," Phoenix put on her tank top with greater movement of her arm. "Thank you, Storm."

"Call me Ororo," she insisted.

"I'm Jean."

**Author's Note: Another chapter of Coin and Year of X-Men are due in the next day or so!**


	11. New Name, Same Face

Jean was in a Danger Room session when she felt Ororo approaching the area in a big hurry. She ran to the panel just as Ororo was overriding her training session on the outside computer.

"Ororo, what's going on?"

"It's Wolverine. He's here!"

"What," Jean slipped on a long-sleeved shirt over her sports bra.

"He's in Xavier's office. You didn't tell me about the eye patch."

"He didn't have one," Jean ran the rest of the way to the office.

Jean let her knuckles brush the door as she entered.

"Are you all right?"

"I'll live," Wolverine muttered, his white t-shirt still wet with blood.

"Logan has decided it isn't possible for him to live separately from other Mutants, especially in his current state. I have offered him a place here," Charles looked at her with a smile. He thought this was her doing.

"Of course," she replied. "Should I have Dr. McCoy take a look at his eye?"

"Take him straightaway, Jean."

"Thank you, Charles."

She escorted him to the infirmary in silence, waiting impatiently by the door. Hank came out of the infirmary with a kind smile on his face.

"Your friend there has a unique mutation, and even more unique alterations."

"What about his eye?"

"That's the best news of all. His healing goes so far as to replace the one he lost."

"Can I see him?"

"Yes, he should be decent now."

Jean walked into the room as Logan buckled his belt.

"How does your eye feel?"

"The doc glued it shut while it heals, it itches."

They watched each other warily for a moment.

"Jean."

"Logan."

"Code name," he asked.

"Naturally," she smiled.

"Thought I might be the enemy," he smirked.

"You never know."

"Smart girl," he chuckled.

"I know. Let's go get you settled in."

Logan grabbed his leather jacket and duffle bag. She had to suppress a laugh when she passed by Ororo and the rest of the team, conspicuously gathered around the foyer.

"They're staring," Logan growled, glaring over his shoulder at them as they climbed the stairs.

"You're the one with bloodstained jeans, not wearing a shirt," she smirked, flicking a glance at his broad, hairy chest.

"You don't look like a 'Jean'," he stated.

"You don't look like a 'Logan'," she replied in kind, leading him into an available room.

"Fair enough," he looked around, and dropped his bag on the floor.

"Hand over your jeans."

"What?"

"Do you own another pair?"

"Yeah," he arched an eyebrow at her.

"Then get out of those so I can wash the blood out."

Logan shrugged and did as she said, holding them out to her as he stood there, quite unconcerned with being naked in front of her.

Jean walked out of the room, sensing he was a bit surprised she hadn't blushed, or even taken a good look at him. Pausing at the door, she turned and looked him in the eye.

"Nothing I haven't already seen," she smirked.


	12. A Litte More

Jean had always kept indoors when it came to exercise, but since her fledgling friendships with Ororo and Logan, she found her tastes changing little by little. She found the land around Charles' estate a great area to go for a long run, her mind able to wander from the prime directive of missions as the fresh air filled her lungs, oxygenated her lean muscles. Ororo had gifted her with a tiny music player and a variety of music since Jean was more for books than music. Jean's recent favorite was Allison Krauss, a big difference from the heavy rock she was accustomed to. Even in a steady rain, she enjoyed the chill drops on her face, pushing herself to keep moving or become cold.

Running through the gates and up the stairs, she removed her damp hood, kicking off her shoes outside the front doors. The house was still, peaceful, she noted as she padded up the stairs to her room, jumping into a steamy shower.

Jean dressed in a pair of jeans and a soft cotton t-shirt, padding down the hall to Logan's room on kitten-quiet feet. Easing the door open, she smiled as she saw him asleep on his bed. Logan took few luxuries in life, but sleep was something he took full advantage of.

Crawling onto the bed, Logan woke immediately.

"What did I tell you about sneakin' up on me when I sleep," he growled.

"I got farther than the door this time," she smirked.

He gave a rough chuckle, sitting up on his elbows. "Have a good run?"

Jean stretched out on the bed next to him, nodding. "How's the eye?"

"Hank says anytime I'm ready," he replied.

"Well?!"

"Well what," he smirked.

"Take it off!"

Logan grinned.

"The eye patch," she rolled her eyes.

"I'd rather give it another few days."

"You've been complaining about that eye patch since you got your eye gouged out," Jean pointed out.

Logan sighed, pausing as he took hold of the patch. Jean sat up on her knees, watching him blink experimentally.

"So?"

He raised his eyes to hers, a hint of a smile on his lips.

"Well you're not cross-eyed or anything," Jean joked.

Logan had her pinned to the mattress before she could blink.

"Listen here, smartass."

"Ahem."

They looked to the open door, Ororo standing there with a sly smirk on her lips.

"Hi," Jean grinned upside down.

"Well, hi there," Ororo replied.

"Jean is testing out her sense of humor," Logan informed Ororo.

"The point Jean, is to not be manhandled in the process," Ororo could barely contain her grin.

"Tell it to him, he tackles _then_ scolds."

"It's like she's from another planet or something," Logan complained, sitting back on his heels.

"each her the ways of the human race then," Ororo chuckled and moved on.

Jean sat up, taking Logan's face in her hands.

"Really, it's perfect."

"Well, I try," he smirked.

Jean rolled off the bed, heading toward the door. "You could keep the eye patch around for fun, though. You'd make a good-lookin' pirate."

"Jean, do you know what you're implying," he arched an eyebrow.

"I'm not a complete alien, Logan."

"What did you come in here for," he asked.

"No reason," she shrugged, then smiled and slipped out of the room.


	13. Weigh Me Down

Jean found out the distinction between Logan and 'Wolverine' in their day to day interaction, though there were a few gray areas where even she was unsure. While it made others in the Mansion uncomfortable, she understood it. It was a means of preservation. The distinction between 'Phoenix' and Jean was similar, but her own personality was still in its infancy. Logan relied on 'Wolverine' for most social interaction, but 'Phoenix' was curious to see how Jean would fare within a group.

* * *

Jean found herself being accepted by and enjoying the company of Ororo and the others. Still, her old habits were hard to break. She did prefer quiet, solitary stints. The exception to this was that Logan joined her more often, smoking a cigar, sleeping, or just sitting in the silence of her room together.

There had been a hard rain the night before, and the ground was still saturated, the sky overcast as midday approached.

Logan was in a mood.

Jean had been content to spend this particular day completely alone and in bed with a good book, having taken precautions to lock the door during the night. Logan had had other ideas, and spent the morning pacing the hall outside her door, leaving and then returning to check the door again. The locked door had been a similar trait they shared in keeping the world out, and they respected that when the door was locked, even they were not admitted.

This was not that day.

Impatience won out, and Logan picked the lock.

Jean's head snapped up as the door opened.

"Locked door."

"It isn't locked now," he growled.

"You do not disrespect the locked door rule," she sat up with a frown on her lips.

"This is not a locked door day."

"Yes it is, now leave."

He stood there, stubbornly trying to will her out of bed with a glare.

"Logan, get out of my room!"

Logan crawled onto her bed. "Come outside."

"Go find someone else to play with you today," she tried to push him off of her pillow, which had gone cold.

"'m goin' crazy Jean...let's go outside."

"It's cold," she turned away.

"Once you get moving it's just fine," he grabbed her bedsheets and yanked them off her body.

She gave an indignant shout, only having worn underwear and a tank top to bed, trying to cover herself up.

"I've seen you naked, don't be such a child."

"Oh well when you put it like that," she rolled her eyes and lay back down. "And I wasn't completely naked."

"Out of bed," he demanded.

"You're being a jerk."

"You like that," he nudged her.

"No, I'm not giving in to your childish behavior," she replied in a haughty tone.

"Jean."

She looked over her shoulder. It wasn't new for him to look tense, but he seemed to be asking now instead of demanding.

"Can I get a shower first?"

"You don't smell bad," he replied.

"I'm taking a shower."

Hurry up," he made himself comfortable on her bed.

Jean took her sweet time getting ready, keeping a watchful eye on the doorknob of the bathroom. She dressed in jeans and black and white layered shirts, pulling on her leather jacket.

"Let's go," Logan led her down to the garage, getting his bulky frame into his leather jacket.

Jean put on the motorcycle helmet, climbing on behind him. They sped off of Xavier's property, and onto the highway. She enjoyed the ride as trees streaked past in a blur, feeling the air growing colder as Logan traveled further upstate. Pulling off on a hiking trail, he got off the bike, and set off up the path without Jean.

"Hey Logan, wait up!"

She was glad that she had worn her sturdy boots and thick socks, jogging to catch up with Logan. Once she fell into step beside him, he grinned at her, taking off again.

"Oh this is hilarious, Logan. Real funny," Jean set her jaw as he took off uphill.

Logan waited for her up ahead, giving her a grin as she elbowed him.

"Jerk."

"Feels good out here doesn't it," he panted lightly from satisfaction, not being winded in the least.

"Are you going to take off again?"

"No."

"So where to now?"

"Over here," he grabbed her hand and led her up the trail.

"Have you been here before?"

"Yeah," he jumped up on a log, giving her a hand up.

"So why not just come alone?"

"I wanted to take you with me," he replied.

They continued in silence for some time, Logan didn't hesitate to give her a helping hand when they came to a spot that she might slip.

"Just past this group of trees, there's a really good view," he pushed Jean ahead of him.

She pushed through the trees, a small open space gave way to the ranges they had run up.

"Where's the bike," she asked.

Logan stepped up behind her, pointing down and to her right. "See that shiny spot?"

"That's the bike?"

"Yep."

"Either I'm in good shape, or you brought me up the easy way," she looked over her shoulder.

Logan chuckled, putting his arms around her as she shivered. Jean tried not to stiffen up as Logan lowered his head next to hers, sniffing at her hair.

"I remember meeting you."

"You do?"

"Some things."

As he spoke his warm breath tickled her ear, making her shift weight.

"I remember the way you smelled, that you kicked me in the crotch," he chuckled.

"Sorry 'bout that."

"You do what you have to to survive."

Jean turned around, his arms dropping to the small of her back. "Thank you."

"For what."

"Coming to the mansion, staying."

"Well, you're welcome," he smirked.

Jean smiled, eyes wide as Logan leaned down to kiss her lips. It was a very real shock to realize just how innocently she viewed him, she hadn't realized she was actively flirting with him, blame that on Phoenix appealing to Wolverine. She broke the kiss, looking at Logan with a tilt to her head.

He quirked an eyebrow.

Jean lowered her gaze to his lips, returning the kiss.


	14. Touch

Jean sat in her usual chair at the War Room table, not listening to the meeting. She watched Logan as he paid attention to Professor Xavier, frustrated be the fickle behaviors of men. Once she had been sure Logan caught her staring. ans she would have been embarrassed if she hadn't caught the slightest of smirks grace his upper lip.

"Jean."

_That smug bastard had kissed her..._

"Jean?"

_Acting like nothing happened when it did!_

The boot that connected with her shin alerted her to the fact that everyone was looking at her.

"Sorry?"

"Anything to add? You've been unusually quiet."

"No, not this time."

Ororo looked at her, understanding at least in part something having occured between them that Jean, in her simple little way, was having difficulty grasping.

"Don't get up to leave," Storm muttered.

"Why not?"

She couldn't say much more without Logan being completely informed, his impeccable hearing was a nuisance in certain private matters. "I want to help."

Jean would have insisted she was fine, but men were not something she could puzzle out for herself. So she did as Ororo asked and remained seated when everyone else got up to leave. Logan paused for a fraction of a breath, and continued out of the room with the flow of people.

"You seem troubled," Ororo began gently.

Jean placed her pen on the table and crossed her arms protectively ovrer her chest. "You could say I am."

"So what does Logan have to do with that?"

"He kissed me."

Ororo's eyebrows shot up, despite trying to appear neutral. "So he likes you."

"I don't know," Jean sighed. "He hasn't talked to me much since."

"Well...he hasn't taken to anyone else like he has with you."

"I don't see how that helps me," Jean muttered.

"He's not one to show emotion to just anyone," Ororo reasoned.

"So he's just a jerk who was letting his base animal instincts lead him against better judgment."

"Maybe...but you should find out for yourself.."

"Or...do you think he could tell I'm not experienced," Jean asked hesitantly.

"Not experienced...you're..."

"Have I ever exhibited signs of having had a relationship with anyone," Jean's tone was mocking.

"Ok, you got me there."

"I kissed poorly," Jean concluded.

"Was he frustrated, stopping you at all?"

"No."

"I doubt it was your kissing skills," Ororo smiled.

"I should talk to him."

"Yes."

"Thank you, Ro."

They had just left the War Room, turning their conversation to plans for an evening out when Jean spotted Logan waiting in the hall, openly smirking as he pushed off the wall. In the span of an eye-blink, Logan was face down on the floor, the residents that witnessed the lighting-quick exchange stood slack-jawed.

"Jean, that wasn't-"

"I know. Changed my mind," she stepped over his body and sauntered upstairs.

Ororo crouched next to Logan as he sat up, working his jaw as it mended itself.

"Did you learn anything?"

"Do not make her angry," he wiped blood from his mouth.

"Good man."

* * *

There had been plenty of arguments before, but this was a complete freeze out. Jean and Logan were both surly, but Logan was trying to fix things whereas Jean had shut down.

"It was just a kiss," Logan muttered.

Ororo looked around the library, apparently Logan was desperate enough to talk.

"Think about who you kissed," she smirked.

Logan grunted.

"You kissed and subsequently ignored little Jeannie Grey, deadly apple of Xavier's eye. Never mind that he could have squished your brain like a grape if she had asked him to. However, Jean doesn't play games, she is proud and innocent."

"She's a grown woman."

"Logan, really," Ororo was getting irritated.

"What," he snarled.

"Everything about her screams 'grown woman', except one thing. She is socially underdeveloped, think shy and extremely skittish teenage girl with a crush."

"You can't be serious."

"You of all people should understand that."

He gave a frustrated snort, Ro smiled as he stood and headed to Jean's room.

"Jean."

She opened the door, and he was taken aback to see her eyes were red from crying. He held out his hand, she took it and allowed herself to be pulled against the warm expanse of his chest.

"Sorry Jeannie," he muttered.


	15. It's Only A Breath Or Two

Though his apology meant something to her, Jean was cautious around Logan. Storm cautioned her that Logan was very much a normal male, and he couldn't help it if his instincts got the best of him sometimes. It made him a bit touchy when months passed and made no progress with the redhead, but the lack of physical passion seemed to work another kind of magic on him. She was eager for him to teach the skills he gained over the years of warfare, and Logan found himself impressed with her dedication to getting everything right. He was enamored with her, no doubt.

Then there were times that he just plain lusted after her.

"Why is it you come into the gym twenty two minutes after I do," Logan asked as she stepped lightly onto the treadmill.

"You seem to be looking for me," she grinned, turning on her music player.

Logan grunted as the muscles in her long bare legs stretched and flexed under the gym lights, and joined the small contingent of guys in the weights area.

For as long as he could stand it, he ignored the fact Jean was there. Wolverine caught her scent on the air and gave Logan a macho pep talk until he practically roared, and sauntered over to the treadmill.

Jean pulled the small speaker from her ear as he leaned on the machine. "Yes?"

"You annoy me."

"Then stop watching me while I run instead of lifting," she teased, getting Logan a chorus of taunts in the gym.

She grinned as he gave her a long-suffering expression, and headed toward the locker room.

"Better make it a cold one, Logan!"

Jean gave up the treadmill after her usual five miles, and took a quick shower. Knowing she hit a nerve, she didn't want to keep Logan waiting any longer.

"Come in."

Jean let herself into his room, sitting on his lap.

"I didn't mean to aggravate you."

"You didn't."

"But you're in a mood," she prompted.

"I'm frustrated," he replied through clenched teeth.

"So how do I make it better?"

Logan sat up and kissed her.

"Better," she asked.

He shook his head, kissing her again. Jean sighed, draping her arms over his shoulders. Logan pulled back, feeling her heart beating in her fragile ribcage. Unable to help himself, he drifted his mouth from hers and kissed her neck. A hand tightened in his hair, yanking him back.

"You okay?"

She was panting, eyes wide.

"That was…different."

"If you don't like it-"

"No, why haven't you tried that before?"

He grinned, running his nose along her throat before touching his lips there. She gasped, her head lolling to one side.

"Want to lie down?"

"Yes."

Logan lay on his back and tolled Jean until they were side by side, sliding his hand underneath her shirt. Curiosity got the better of Jean and she tiled her head, tasting the skin on Logan's neck. His choked gasp encouraged her to give him a soft bite, and found herself on her back, wrists held firmly in one of Logan's hands.

"Careful Jean, I know what I want."

"Take off your shirt."

Logan stripped off the tank top, setting his jaw tightly as Jean dropped her shirt next to his. It was Logan's turn to be shoved onto his back with invisible hands, held down firmly as Jean lay against his chest.

"I can stop you whenever I want," Jean reminded him with a grin.


	16. Bridges Burned

Logan was not a bargaining man. He did not ask, he did not plead. But how could he stay when this was so important for him to go?

"I know you and Jean have become…close," Charles spoke after a few minutes of silence.

"She sleeps in my room almost every night, Charles. Don't have to gloss it over, I'm no polite company," Loan muttered.

"It is up to you to search out your origins, you can go looking for what you don't remember, or stay for what you have now."

"Tell me what to do."

"I don't want her hurt, you know that. Logan, this is like all other difficult decisions in your life. You alone must make them," Charles looked at Logan with understanding eyes.

"You'll take care of her," he stated.

"Of course," Charles nodded.

Logan left the room, back muscles taut like a predator. He found Jean in her room, putting away her laundry. He felt a tightness in his throat, a sick feeling in his gut, that told him his decision was going to do something he may not ever be able to fix.

"Hey," she smiled.

"Jeannie."

"What's up," she stuck her hands in her pockets.

"Let's take a walk," he pushed off the wall, the sound of his boots like a doomsday drum in Jean's ears.

"I have to go," he growled.

"I understand that, but without me? We make a good team!"

"It's something I have to do alone," he paced in front of her.

"So you were never interested in us-this continuing," she asked, unable to listen to that part of her mind telling her to shut up.

If Logan told her he wanted nothing more than to just take off, forget the intel on his past and just go live in the cabin together, he would be giving up that missing part of himself. He didn't know when or if he'd be back, and he felt Jean should take full advantage of what Charles could give her as a mentor. Making her wait for him was unfair. So, he lied.

"No."

"You don't want me."

"No."

"You're sure this is what you want?"

"Yes," he muttered.

"A clean break, nothing to worry about here," she heard her emotions get the best of her voice.

"Got that right," he clenched his teeth, folding his arms so that the urge to grab her wouldn't get the best of him.

Jean felt the tears, stinging hot on her cheeks. She nodded her head, knowing if she tried to speak her mind, she would be just another foolish girl that fell for him.

"Goodbye."

She walked toward the house, knowing what kind of pain she had kept herself protected from for so many years.


	17. Loss

For weeks and months if she heard his name she felt the bottom drop out of her stomach, the pain fresh like stitches being torn open. Her heart throbbed in her chest when she found herself alone with her thoughts, reminding her that she was alive and it hurt bad to be so messed up over another person. Storm understood her hurt, and gave her help when Jean reached out for it, spending a few long nights with Jean's head on her lap, rubbing her back to try and soothe the sharp sting that a love affair always seemed to leave behind.

Even with the pain, Jean knew she liked the woman she was maturing into. Her friendships were becoming close to family-level ties, school books replaced mission plans. She wanted the world, and not in the secrecy of darkness.

In what seemed like a strange dreamlife, Jean became a teacher to Xavier's School for Gifted Children, she turned thirty, dated and broke up with a few select men through the years. Her beginnings were a stark contrast to her present and future.

Like most people learn with time, the pain does subside, the memories do not torment as they once did, and life goes on.

Wolverine resisted as long as he could, despite the inherited Yakuza crime family and his oath he would protect Mariko Yasihda after her father's death, Mariko was set on him. She knew of his heartbreak, a man can only look so sad for one reason. To all he appeared resigned over this mystery woman, that she was lost as he was lost to her; and Mariko took the time to gain his trust and eventually take him on as a mate. He found solace in the life he made with Mariko, with the constant threat of rival families and the unspoken reality that every day could be their last together, Logan was lost to years of fights and near misses, Mariko looked to him as her brute force and love of her life, mending his hurts and ruling Clan Yasihda with Logan as her right hand. But like all crime families and their rivals, there are losses that occur. Logan held Mariko as he ended her life upon her request, already on her last breath from blowfish toxin, delivered to her by an assassin.

"Mariko, please..."

"Logan, do this for me...let me die with my honor intact...the family cannot afford to lose face...I would ask no one of this task but you, " she smiled through the pain of the tetrodotoxin attacking her body.

"I will find him, your death will not go unpunished."

"That is my brave one," Mariko closed her eyes.

Logan returned to her grave, one year and three days after her death...Matsu'o finally dead for Mariko's poisioning.

"You can rest now," he spoke to her headstone.

Logan left the cemetery, shoulders heavy with grief. Upon the first phone he came across, he dialed a number and waited for the answering voice.

"Logan, it is good to hear your voice."

"Didn't speak a word," he gave a tight grin in reply.

"When will you be coming home?"

"Charles, can you bother having a conversation like a normal person?"

"Forgive me, but you are thinking quite loudly. For you, I will listen."

"Is it even possible to come back...with Jean and all," her name seemed so foreign on his lips.

"I could ask her, if you do not mind waiting until this evening to depart Japan."

"I can wait awhile longer."

"Then I will contact you there in an hour."

"Talk to you soon," Logan replied, hung up and sat down to drink.

"May I interrupt you, Jean?"

"Of course, Charles. Class, continue with your lab while I have a word," she followed Charles into her office.

"I do apologize for taking you from your class, almost as much as I apoloigze for the bad news I am about to give you."

"Oh," her stomach twisted hard in her gut.

"Logan-"

She bit the inside of her lip hard.

"HIs time in Japan has come to a close. His...companion and employer was killed."

"That is sad news," she breathed again.

"I offered him any place to go, he was adamant that this was his only chosen destination," Charles spoke in context of what he heard Logan's mind crying out for, and not so much his known brief conversation skills.

"What time does he arrive?"

"I wanted to make sure-" he paused, as Jean held up a hand.

"I'll welcome him back as readily as you will."

"You are sure," Charles looked deep into her eyes for any hint of reluctance.

"Who am I to refuse a member of our team who asks for a place to heal? I'm sure, Charles."

"Very well then. I will let you get back to your students."

"Thank you for thinking of my feelings, Charles."


	18. Returning

Logan arrived while everyone was in classes, a small mercy in an otherwise unpleasant turn of events. He found his old room as if he had not been gone the better part of a decade, too tired to be sure it was hard to breathe because of his recent loss, or returning to the place of an unresolved past. Dropping his bag on the floor, he shed his jacket and crawled onto the bed fully clothed.

He opened his eyes at the smell of ozone and perfume. "Here to give me what for?"

"Here to make sure you hadn't gone into a coma, you've been asleep for fifteen hours," Storm replied.

"Tired," he sighed, closing his eyes.

"Are you hungry?"

He dragged a pillow from the head of the bed, rolling over to unbutton his flannel shirt. "No."

"A man with self-healing capabilities is never not hungry," she gave a small smile, hoping that some humor would reach him.

"I'll eat when I am hungry, Ro."

"Okay, but if you sleep another fifteen hours I'm sending Hank in next."

Storm got halfway out the door when Logan muttered her name.

"Yes?"

"Close the door," he asked, sitting up on his bed.

"All right," she closed his door and leaned against it. "What did you want?"

"I'm sorry."

"You're apologizing to the wrong woman, Logan."

"You deserve an apology as much as anybody else. I left a mess here," he worked the muscles in his jaw, looking uncomfortable.

"Yes you did."

"I know Charles said it was fine, me being here...but if it isn't-"

"She's fine, Logan. You know how strong she is."

He nodded, a far off look in his eyes.

"I'm not going to punish you, and neither will she. I am very sorry for your loss, Logan."

Storm left him in his room, still in his own head. She only hoped that Jean and Logan in the same space wouldn't cause them both deep hurt. Going downstairs, she found Jean watching a movie with Kitty and Jubliee.

"What are we watching?"

"The Wedding Date," Jean looked over her shoulder with a smile.

"Move over," Storm sat with them, her shoulder immediately occupied with Kitty's head.

"You okay," Jean asked.

"Yes, I'm fine," she answered with a reassuring smile.


	19. Close Enough

Logan knew he couldn't avoid the rest of the Mutants living in the Mansion. Ororo came to the door, ready to hear the same old refusal he had give her the last month, when he opened the door.

"Let's go."

Ororo only smiled, and walked downstairs with him.

His eyes scanned the room for her, despite the sensation of dread in his guts. The students eyed him with interest, a few faces were familiar, but grown with angular features of a person who had seen more than they should ever have to. If Ororo knew what Logan was wondering, she didn't pay any mind, or relieve him of his misery.

He kept his head down, focused on finishing his plate so he could escape, when he heard it. Among the many conversations on his side of the table, she laughed in appreciation of a story that was being told. Sitting back in his chair, he saw a long red ponytail. She sat to Scott's left, the damn kid had grown taller (if it was possible), too tall to see around. Logan swallowed hard, meeting Ororo's eyes for a brief second. Dinner seemed to take forever to end, he was all but ready to sprint back to his room.

"Logan."

He stood to take Scott's hand, and found that Scott was in fact much taller than himself.

"Grew up, kid."

"Good to have you back, you want to see some of the new gadgets we've accumulated?"

"Sure," he walked alongside the lanky Mutant, trying to avoid the urge to look behind him.

"Scott wasn't doing that on purpose, was he?"

Jean turned to look at Ororo, using her mind to set the kitchen to rights.

"If he did so, he did that without my urging, Ro."

Ororo unfolded her arms, resting her hands upon the counter. "Just wanted to be sure."

"I may not be as okay with this as I thought I was, though," Jean admitted.

"Oh?"

"I thought ten years was enough time, but just knowing he is here...it brings up some things."

"If it didn't I'd be worried you had Xavier mess with your head," Ororo smiled.

"That may be a worthy idea," she sighed as Ororo's arm wrapped around her shoulders.

"I'm worried about you, the both of you."

"What do I do, how do I act around him?"

"Well, that depends on what you want things to be like. If you want to keep the peace, be your lovely self...if you want us all miserable treat him like he just kicked a puppy."

"That's the worst part, the kids will be affected if things get tense."

"There's always tension here, we have a houseful of hormonal teenagers," Ororo reminded her.

"That's true," Jean turned to Ororo, trying to soothe a long-forgotten feeling with a comforting embrace.

"If it gets to be too much, just act like he's a houseplant...neutral, nothing to get worked up over."

"Right, a houseplant," Jean pulled away, taking a deep breath. "A houseplant I was in an intenese relationship with, saw naked..."

"Don't worry, Jean...things will be all right."

Jean nodded, letting her mind wander to be sure of his location in the lower levels of the house so she could return to her room without running into him.


	20. Story of Us

Jean was walking through the library, when she felt that old familiar still presence she used to secretly cling to as her safe haven in the night.

She looked up, and saw him there.

Logan nearly jumped as the kids stampeded into the library for study hour. Jean moved instinctively toward him to grab the hands that were clenched in fists, to ease the tendons to relax.

"Jean, could you help me with something?"

She tore her eyes from his, looking to Kitty's wide and pleading eyes.

"Go and get settled, I will be right there."

"Thanks!"

Jean gasped in a breath as she looked up, silent as always right before her.

"Logan."

"Jean," his eyes studied her hard. No doubt she had changed in ten years. Other than the look of a hard life in his eyes, very little of him was different.

"I never saw you in the library before, unless you were looking for me," Jean clamped her mouth shut, unsure if that gave away her thinking of him in any context.

"I…" Logan looked over her shoulder, Jean turned to see Kitty looking at them.

"Later? I told Kitty I would help her."

He nodded, and stalked out. Jean took a seat next to Kitty, pulse hammering hard in her wrists.

"Jean?"

"What was it you needed help with," Jean smiled, pulling Kitty's books in front of her.


	21. Scars To Bear

Logan walked the streets of the small town of Westchester. The bar hadn't looked as good as it sounded back when the noises of teenagers in the Mnasion had his last reserve nerve on thin ice.

He walked past a restaurant, large plate glass windows offering a view of dark polished wood, low lighting, and the small tables.

That's when he saw Jean, smiling at a man that sat at the table across from her. The candle on the table framed her face like a soft beacon of comfort.

"Sir?"

"Yeah."

"Can we help you?"

"Though I saw someone I knew," he muttered, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he continued his wandering.

"Logan?"

He turned. She was a slight thing, lovely long muscles and subtle curves in a figure-hugging black dress.

"Just walkin' around, didn't mean to disturb your date."

"Is everything ok?"

"Sure. Get back inside, getting cold."

"Wait here," she slipped back indoors on impossibly high heels.

He took up space against a wall, turning his head as she approached him, buttoning her jacket.

"Jean, ya didn't have to..."

"We were almost done anyway," she smiled.

They walked along in silence for a few minutes, until Jean caught him looking at her.

"What?"

"Never pegged you for a stiletto kinda girl."

"Tastes change," she shrugged.

"Are you even comfortable in those?"

"Well, if we walk Westchester aimlessly for the rest of the night...either the shoes come off or you'll be carrying me."

"I was goin' to grab a drink."

"There's a quiet bar just a block ahead."

They sat at a booth near the jukebox, Jean glancing at Logan intently watching her remove her jacket as the waitress took their order.

"You look good, Jean."

"You're supposed to say that after a few drinks, not before," she teased, though a blush crept over her cheeks.

Their beers arrived, they watched other patrons arrive.

"What did you tell him?"

"Who?"

"The guy you were on a date with," Logan took a pull on his beer.

"I told him my friend needed me."

"Friend," Logan smirked.

"Well, I didn't want to leave a dinner date with 'my ex needs me'..." she found her bottle empty, Logan gestured for another round.

"Left the guy in a good mood," he agreed.

"Yes," Jean's hand felt clammy against the cold bottle.

"Kissed him?"

"I don't kiss and tell," she snorted. "They have a back patio here."

Logan's eyebrow quirked.

"You're jonesin' for a cigar," she pointed to his hand, that traced a flaw in the wood table. "C'mon."

She grabbed her jacket and slid out of the booth, leading Logan out the side door. He already had a cigar between his teeth when she turned around.

"Here," she flicked a match and held it up.

Logan quirked his eyebrow at her again.

"I got used to carrying them around," she shrugged, pocketing the matchbook.

They hung out by the outside heater, the temperature dropping as the sun left behind a clear night sky.

"So will we be seeing that guy around the mansion," Logan smirked.

"Oh hell, Logan."

"Can I get you anything else," the waitress appeared, smiling.

"Beer, and two shots of Jameson," Jean replied, getting a third look from Logan. "You act like I'm some thing you can't figure out."

"I can't."

"I grew up, Logan."

"Yes you did. But more than that, you became someone else."

"Just because I don't walk around with my past on my sleeve doesn't mean I'm someone else," Jean fiddled in her pocket, producing a shortened cigarillo with plastic tip. He watched, enthralled as she lit the cigar, the smell of cream with the smoke she expelled through her lips.

The waitress left their drinks on a table. They emptied the shotglasses and chased the whiskey with the third beer. After a couple more rounds, punctuated with small talk; Logan paid the tab and they walked from the bar in silence again.

"Where's your truck," Jean asked.

"Ready to go home?"

"Not yet," she admitted.

They walked to the nearby square, a small fountain and park dotted with benches for birdwatchers and parents alike to sit and observe during daylight hours was now empty, save for Logan's boot shuffle and the click of Jean's heels.

Logan took a seat, stretching his arms out on the back of the bench, and Jean sat just close enough without touching him.

"You always were a lightweight," he smirked, watching her button her coat with some difficulty.

"I don't have self-regenerating in my makeup," she stuffed her hands in her pockets.

The half moon lit the night just enough for Jean to see Logan's face, his brow was furrowed with something he was working out inside his head.

"What is it?"

"I've missed you, Jean."

She found herself warm, too warm despite the chill air producing goosebumps on her calves. For a decade she wondered, wished for those words, woke up from dreams that he had almost said it, and now that she heard it come from his own lips, she wasn't sure what it meant to her. Perhaps now wasn't the time to try and figure it all out, so she slid over, put her head on his shoulder and smelled his earthy scent, the one that lit up her brain with memories of them together, when she was younger and so lost without him when he wasn't beside her. His arm left the back of the bench and wrapped around her waist, stroking her side with his thumb as he used to when they lay in bed, about to fall asleep.

"I didn't kiss him."


	22. Shiver

Logan was wild. It was in the very way he breathed, moved.

The fact that she had once been with him was odd enough. So much of her own wounded creature had healed over into a person full of life, instead of a drive to wish death upon anyone who wanted to eliminate her. Not to say she had lost her warrior spirit, she was no pacifist. She just channeled her rage into keeping the team safe, to make the future of Mutants better than the one they had known.

But Logan was wild and animal, through and through.

Could they ever be together again?

Jean shook her head to clear the confusing thoughts as she found Logan staring back at her. He had been roaming the house as he usualy did, stopping here and there to stand with his hands in his pockets, and just stare out at the sunny afternoon until his pupils were tiny pinpricks.

"Want to walk?"

She nodded, leaving her book at the dining room table. He opened the patio door, and they set off down the concrete path. His jaw clenched as they walked, as if he were trying to bite back the words he was trying to speak aloud.

"Jean, I don't know that I can ever give you the life you deserve."

"I'll take whatever I can get."

"What does that mean?"

"That I know how easily life can end, and if you don't have later...do you just sit and wonder 'what if', or do you make the most of it while you're still kicking?"

"I don't know what I want from you."

"Neither do I. You hurt me, the one person who I thought wouldn't do that..."

"Jeannie..."

"If you just leave again, and choose another woman to love, I cannot promise to welcome you back with open arms when you drift back this way."

"You didn't have to wait here for me."

"I didn't. I lived my life once I healed. I won't let you hurt me again."

"I could, you know."

"So you choose to stay, or you choose to be my friend."

She waited, unsure if an ultimatium would drive him away. When he stood there, clenching his fists, brow furrowed, for what seemed like an eternity...she stepped away.

"Okay, Logan I understand what your silence means," Jean turned and walked away.

She found herself spun around, crushed in a warm embrace.

"I don't have an answer for you, yet," he spoke into her ear, creating shivers down her spine that came in body-quaking waves.

"Let me know when you do."


End file.
